


Sweet

by Crowgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food Kink, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Better than the plastic bears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet

Dean wakes up with the feeling of something tickling his chest. It’s annoying enough that once he notices it, he can’t _not_ notice it and go back to sleep.

He blinks and levers himself up onto his elbows. Assuming a loose thread or a strand of hair is teasing at him, he goes to brush a hand over his bare chest, hoping not to have to wake up _too_ much. 

If he’s very lucky, he can just get rid of whatever it is, and turn over, and go back to that nice dream where Cas had that set of silk scarves and--

But instead of thread his fingers run into something thick and...sticky? ‘What the...’ 

He lifts his hand, blinks at his fingers, sniffs at them, then blinks again.

Honey.

There’s _honey_ drizzled over his chest.

‘What the -- fucking -- _Cas!’_

‘Sssh -- Sam is asleep.’ The angel appears out of the bathroom that connects the two motel rooms. 

Dean knows Castiel’s trying to look innocent and he’d have a pretty good chance of it if he weren’t stripped down to boxers and an unbuttoned shirt and if he weren’t practically eyefucking Dean from across the room.

‘Why the fuck am I covered in honey?’ Dean wiggles his fingers out in Castiel’s direction, trying to make his glare convincing.

Castiel shrugs, padding back towards the bed. ‘I made Sam a cup of tea and--’ 

The younger Winchester had managed to catch a head cold, making him almost impossible to understand and forcing them to rest after the last hunt.

Dean glowers. ‘Can my brother _not_ get involved in this conversation? Please?’ He sticks a finger in his mouth, sucking the honey off. 

It’s pretty good, he’s gotta admit; better than the shit in the plastic bears. He’s got no idea where Cas found it. The angel had vanished for a couple of hours and then reappeared with a little ceramic pot of honey and some staples: tea and jello for Sam, beer and snacks for Dean.

Castiel sits on the edge of the bed and it takes Dean a minute to realise that the angel’s eyes are fixed on his hand, watching him clean his fingertips. 

He finishes with the first finger, taking his time and running the tip of his tongue over his fingernail to make sure no honey remains and grins at Cas before slipping his second, longer finger between his lips. 

Castiel catches his own lower lip between his teeth, his pupils dilating until he looks as though he’s been staring at a light: the blue a narrow ring around black.

‘So, Cas...’ Dean smooths a honey-slick fingertip over his lower lip and teases at it with his tongue. ‘Why am I covered in honey?’

‘I thought...’ Castiel pauses, focused on Dean’s tongue tracing over his lip.

‘Yeah?’ Dean licks the honey off his finger, keeping his eyes fixed on Castiel’s. The pleasant sweetness is converting to a deeper burn in his chest and he’s tempted to smear a little of the stuff on Cas, see how it makes him taste.

Castiel licks his lips, leans forward slightly, one hand clenching in the bedclothes near Dean’s hip. ‘The smell...reminded me of you.’ 

Dean sniffs at his palm. It just smells sweet to him -- maybe a little flowery -- and, below that, he can smell his skin and the soap he used in the shower this morning, but that’s about it. 

He looks up at Cas, raising his eyebrows and Castiel leans forward, licking a long, hot line over Dean’s breast. When he comes up, there’s honey smeared over his mouth and his eyes are a little unfocussed; not that Dean cares a lot, he’s mostly trying to stop himself from grabbing Cas and kissing him ‘til they both pass out.

‘Tastes like...like your skin and...and leather and...’ Castiel ducks down again, shifting position so his knees are on either side of Dean’s thighs and he has ready access to the lacework of stickyness on Dean’s skin. 

Castiel’s tongue darts and slides and smooths and there are tiny nibbles over collarbone and ribs and nipples until Dean is gasping, clutching at the mattress with his un-honeyed hand, sharply aware of the pressure of the sheet pulled tight over his crotch by Castiel’s knees, and pretty sure he could come right here if Cas wants him to. 

_‘Jesus,_ Cas...’

‘...and like you smell after you come and...’ Castiel is mumbling against his skin and Dean gives up, slides his hands into Castiel’s thick, dark hair, and pulls until the angel slips up against him, over him, covering him, skin to skin.

He can wash the honey out of Castiel’s hair later.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I'm voting in the E! poll to boost Dean and Cas up in the rankings and my captcha word is 'sticky.'
> 
> _Edit: The dream Dean's having about scarves may have inspired[this fic.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/481419) (8.2012)._


End file.
